The Rest of the Story
by nomdeplume1313
Summary: For those who have been reading For Her. For Him. and Worlds Collide. These are little side stories from before, during, and hopefully after the fics. Many stand on their own, and reading the originals isn't necessary. Yaoi along with other warnings.
1. Happy

_A/N: This takes place just prior to For Her. For Him._

**Happy  
**  
Roy was sleeping in his bed at what had once been his home, but had turned into a make-shift office and dormitory for his team. With the rebellion going on, the headquarters had become a safe shelter, his actual office serving to house some of the displaced families. For convenience sake, the fuhrer had asked that the colonel house his men there. In the main guest room, Breda, Havoc, and a reluctant Falman were all sharing the main guest room. Riza was to stay just next door to Roy in the slightly over-crowded guest room he'd been using for storage. And downstairs, Fuery, Fullmetal and his brother were staying in the study.

It was very little secret to those men closest to the colonel that Riza Hawkeye was definitely not staying in the dusty, box-filled room. No, as she had done many times before, she was staying in his own room, sleeping beside him.

It was the middle of the night when he awoke, arms wrapped around a pillow—Riza hated that he had the tendency to latch onto her while sleeping, and usually provided him with a pillow instead. In her sleep, she looked peaceful, almost angelic. Certainly, she didn't resemble the hard-assed bitch with a gun that everyone imagined her to be, and Roy knew without doubt she wasn't. He propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look at her serene expression, cupid's bow lips twitching slightly at whatever dream she was currently experiencing. He leaned down to kiss her, pressing his lips to her forehead before getting out of bed altogether and making his way downstairs to his desk in his library.

The door to the study was almost opposite the bottom landing for the steps, and as Roy looked in, he found the young major sprawled out over his new leather sofa, right leg somehow suspended upwards on the back of the furniture, automail foot hanging off just slightly. It was almost endearing, except that at some point, Fullmetal would wake up and start talking, not to mention throwing tantrums. Roy chuckled to himself. For the behavior the young state alchemist showed his superior officer, anyone else would have court-martialed him for it, but Roy lived to fight with his subordinate, enjoying the excitement and rush of it all.

Fuery wasn't far away from where Ed laid, still asleep on a military-issue cot. The two had been trading between the two items each night, unlike the three men upstairs, who insisted Breda, an apparent bed and blanket hog, stay on the cot in the room so the others could get some sleep sharing the queen guest bed.

Roy opened his icebox, grabbing a few chunks of ice and putting them in a glass before going to get his scotch. Havoc and Riza would disapprove, but it was just one glass. Besides, it wasn't as though Havoc didn't have his own vices, and Riza, well, no one but Riza could live up to the standards she set for herself.

He walked back by the study and was surprised to find his library had a faint light emanating from it. For a moment, Roy had forgotten he'd told Al if he wanted something to do through the night, to go ahead and look over the books Roy had in his private collection. He had only asked that the teen not go through his personal books, all kept on a shelf by themselves. Roy knew he could trust Al to do exactly as he'd asked. Ed on the other hand would have read each and every one to find something to blackmail the ambitious colonel with, and considering his own fascination with transmutations involving sexual aspects, Roy was sure there was more than enough to do it.

Roy opened the door to the library.

"Oh, Colonel Mustang, sir," Al said, sounding as nervous as he might have also looked had he not been trapped inside of the armor. "You're up at this hour?"

"I don't always sleep through the nights."

"I can sympathize. I never sleep. But at least here, I have something to do."

Roy went to his desk, going over a few texts that the group leading the rebellion had published, trying to find a weakness, something easy to attack, but these people seemed to be die-hard fanatics, willing to do anything for their cause, even die.

Roy hadn't remembered falling asleep, but apparently he had, and Al had covered him with a blanket, because he was very rudely awakened by the sound of his oak pocket doors beings slammed off their tracks, then ripped back in place again. As he was still recovering from waking up with a start, kicking off the blanket, he looked to find himself on the wrong side of Riza's gun.

"What?" he asked, innocently. "I didn't cuddle with you, I didn't try anything last night. What?"

"Y-you, you son of a bitch!" Roy twitched at the name coming from her lips. She could be cold on occassion, she had pointed a gun at him in the past, but never had she called him that. "I'm not going to be able to do this on my own, and my career, I can't… not alone, not by myself. I'll have to resign. I'll have to quit. I'm not going to give it up or get rid of it."

"Riza," Roy said, trying to remain calm. He had grown accustomed to this, but was not happy to hear that the familiar pointing of the gun was accompanied by incoherent babbling. He wondered if his life could really be in danger. "What is it? Why do you have to quit?"

"Because, I'm pregnant. I took a pregnancy test this morning after I was done being sick and I'm pregnant."

It took a moment for that to make just slightly more sense than what she'd babbled, then as it sunk through his thick skull, Roy's jaw dropped, and he effortlessly stood from the chair, ignoring the gun still trained on him, an unconscious smile spreading across his face. A baby. His baby.  
_  
Their_ baby.

"Pregnant?" he repeated, reaching out to put a hand on her stomach. "How far?"

"Almost two months." She lowered the gun, rust brown eyes looking at him, puzzled. "You're, you're happy?"

"Very," he said, laying a hand on her abdomen, knowing he truthfully couldn't feel it. "We'll have to redo the room upstairs, and I'll see if my sister, no she wouldn't probably talk to me, but maybe I can round up some of my baby things, and we'll need to check into maternity leave, and paternity leave, and we'll have to get this rebellion under control…" He realized he was being stared at. "What?"

"You're happy?"

"Of course I am, Riza." He kissed her, breaking the kiss so he could smile, dark onyx eyes all but glowing as he did. "I'm going to be a father. We're going to be a family." Then, he turned serious. "I don't want you going into battle anymore. I don't like risking you as it is. I won't risk both of you."

"I'll be fine, Roy," she said, glaring at him just a bit. "It's you I'm worried about. I'm not going to let you be at risk."

"Riza, as the father of that child and your commanding officer, I order you—" Again the gun was pointed at his face.

"I am not going to sit and worry when I could be out there helping you or saving you. Try again, Colonel."

"Well, Lieutenant, what if I found you unfit to go out today?"

"I'd say that you would have a bullet hole in your foot to keep you from doing the same thing."

There had to be an answer, someone he could trust, someone who was fast and powerful who could watch over her when he couldn't.  
"Hey, Colonel Bastard," the voice of Roy's answer said as he opened the door. "Are you coming out to eat or not. I'm still hungry, and if you're not out soon, I'm eating what Breda cooked."

"You are always hungry, Fullmetal. But yes, I'll be coming out _shortly_."

"Who you calling so short he couldn't climb over a stack of flapjacks?"

"You, Fullmetal."

"Why, you old geezer! I'll show you short."

In charging toward Roy, Ed accidentally bumped into Riza's stomach.

"Ed!" Roy said in a tone that sounded so much like his father's it frightened him. "Stop this at once. I need you to work with Riza when we go out into the streets of Central from now on. I think you could both benefit from having one another's backs."

"Which means you benefit from having both of us having yours. I know she covers you."

"Ed," Riza said, "I'd appreciate it."

She seemed to understand that this was Roy's way of letting her go back out, to have Fullmetal with her. He was stubborn and obnoxious, but he wouldn't let anything happen to her, and Roy knew it.

"Fine, but for you Lieutenant."

Roy waited for Ed to storm back out of the door before scooping his lover into his arms.

"I am more than capable of walking."

"Maybe."

He spun her around, trying to imagine their little family, trying to imagine being a father, having a little piece of himself walking around, a little piece of himself and Riza. Despite everything going on around him, Colonel Mustang was happy.


	2. I Hated You

_A/N: This can take place at any point in the stories. I'll let readers use their imaginations, as it's all dialogue._

**I Hated You**

"I used to stand outside of the eastern headquarters for a good ten, maybe fifteen minutes before I knew I could bring myself to go in. I know you always knew it irritated me to give my report, but I don't think you ever really understood why. It wasn't the tedious paperwork, not that that was a positive point, and it wasn't that I had to make a report about a particular mission. I was aware that was part of the job.

"The fact is, I hated you."

"Harsh words."

"But true. I hated you. I hated that most of what came out of your mouth were condescending remarks about my maturity or my height. I despised the fact that even when I tried to be mature—"

"Not that it was often."

"Bite me."

"Is that a show of said maturity?"

"I'm going to ignore you now. Like I was saying, when I tried to be mature, you would say exactly the right word or phrase to make me behave like a petulant child. I hated that the only time you showed me any kindness, it was as a father or an uncle would."

"I'm a bit young for it to have been fatherly."

"Trust me, old man, it came across that way."

"You got angry because I cared?"

"I got angry because of how you cared.

"But that wasn't the only reason I disliked you so much. You were also the only person capable of distracting me or deterring me from my goals. There was a part of me that knew if you showed me just a bit of what I had always hoped you would, I might have actually returned it. I might have forgotten about Al.

"That more than anything made me hate you. I owed Al his body back, and you were making me forget that."

"Would you like a little confession of my own?"

"What?"

"I used to call you in for no real reason. I knew your threats were empty most of the time. Though, I always feared when you made them to parts of my anatomy."

"Well, I didn't exactly think I'd ever get to enjoy them."

"But I made you bring in more reports as you got older because I saw that you were growing up into a handsome young man, and I tried to enjoy that the only way I ever thought I would. And I rather enjoyed getting you angry. Your face gets nicely flushed when you're mad."

"So does yours."

"Though I much prefer when you look hot and bothered just before sex."

"Dirty, horny old man."


	3. Your Father

_A/N: Okay, this one's entirely dialogue again._

**Your Father**

"I hated your father."

"So did I. Big deal. There's a lot to hate about the man. The stealing bodies, philosopher's stone, Envy…"

"But I hated him before I knew that."

"So where does this come from?"

"You made your little confession to me. Here's mine: I hated your father."

"Somehow, that doesn't seem to have the weight behind it as me telling you I hated you. But… if you want to call that a confession…"

"It is. I hated your father so damned much. First of all because he was impossible to find and benefit my career."

"Ladder climber."

"Shrimp."

"Bastard."

"Oh shut up for a minute. Thank you. Then, I learned to hate him more the day I met you."

"The day you 'met me' met me, or saw me unconscious in the bed."

"Unconscious, because I knew you wouldn't have been in that state if you'd have had guidance. But then, once I had you under my command, I hated him for the fact that he made you have no respect at all for authority figures."

"Right, because the authority figure wouldn't want to think he was the reason I had no respect for him."

"Can I continue, or do you need me to pull you up closer to me because it's so hard to hear from down there and don't feel the need to interrupt me?"

"I'm not the one going deaf from old age, you geriatric military dog."

"I hated your father because it left the void he'd created for me to fill for you and Al. I didn't mind having to step in for Al, but as you grew up, I didn't think you'd ever stop seeing me as a father-figure."

"Oh, I thought you said you were more like an uncle, something about being 'too young' to be my father."

"Ed."

"Oh, fine, continue."

"And I despised the look of hurt and mistrust you had because of his abandonment. I never wanted to see you hurt like that. Half of our arguments to date have been from me trying to protect you from that kind of hurt, and he was the one I knew there was nothing I could do anything about or ever could have."

"You have a serious hero complex, Roy Mustang."

"Maybe, but I have to save my—"

"Call me a damsel in distress, and I'm not going to be the one resembling a woman."

"…"

"You haven't corrected me. You were going to call me a damsel in distress, weren't you?"

"Never."

"Fuhrer Bastard, were you going to call me a damsel in distress? Where are you going? Mustang! Get your ass back here and tell me the truth!"


	4. Sofa

_**Silkendreamaid**, here you go._

**Sofa**

"It's old and needs put out of its misery, Ed," Roy said from the kitchen, Ed standing in the study, glaring at his husband through the walls.

"Not if I have anything to do about it," he yelled back.

"Come on, Ed, for one night, you're here, we're not fighting," Roy said, standing at the doorway, tossing those salt and pepper strands out of his eyes, "do you really want to start over a couch?"

Ed looked down at the object of their discussion. It wasn't just a couch. It was HIS couch. It was where he slept during the rebellion, when Roy's closest men (and Riza) had been ordered to stay at Roy's place.

The thing had a lot of memories for him. When he was pregnant, and he and Roy would sit side by side—Roy always swore he didn't consider Ed as a possible lover, but he could have sat anywhere else. Ed would sit on the left, which was where he sat when they were first able to see and feel the faint bump of the twins, where he'd been the first time they'd made out.

Not even thinking about the fact that Roy was still standing behind him as he ran a hand over the left armrest, remembering when Ed and Roy had taken turns bending the other over the armrest, and taking him from behind. It brought a smile to his face, trying to remember when either of them had had that kind of energy. Considering he wasn't now any older than Roy had been then, Ed wondered how the hell his husband had the stamina.

The hand moved to the back of the sofa, where the leather had been alchemically repaired, though it was still a bit thin, thanks largely to the cyclone of a son he'd given birth to. Nicholas had flopped down on the sofa, his automail catching and ripping a strip of the leather off, Black Hayate ripping it completely off in a rare excited mood a few months before he'd died. Where the dog had taken it, no one ever found out, so the leather would stay just a bit too thin.

Then there was the other side of the sofa, where Aideen had laid, listening to the radio when she'd been recovering from the poisoning, her little voice tinkling as she giggled at the radio, crumbs and butter all over her face and hands, sipping on soda water.

There were a few chinks in the wood above the backrest, which Roy insisted they keep because of the circumstances around how Ed's automail had created them, the same circumstances that were the reason Ed had insisted they keep Roy's bite marks on the right cushion.

With a shudder, Ed also remembered that this same sofa was where his niece had been conceived, a fact he'd unwillingly discovered after a slip on Al's part. That thought alone was enough to make him want to at least reupholster his favorite piece of furniture. He'd just frame that piece of leather with the indentation of Roy's teeth.

"You really want to keep this old thing?" A pale hand rubbed over the dark leather.

"Yeah, I think I'm keeping you."

"Bite me, Ed," Roy said, taking his place on the sofa, legs stretched across it. He then pulled Ed down with him, wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist, just as they'd done so many times before.

_He found Roy nuzzling against his neck. "I hope they inherit my genes for height."_

_"You bastard!" Ed said, shoving Roy down onto the couch. "Who you calling so short his babies would be ants?"_

_"Get over here, Ed," Roy said._

_"Don't want to," Ed said. "This is the first time I haven't felt so damned hormonal I can't control myself, and you have to make a short joke."_

_"Edward," Roy said, grabbing Ed's hands, slowly pulling the bloated body in front of him, arms working their way beneath Ed's to splay fingers across the distended belly. "I don't care what they look like. I'll love them even if they are a bunch of little runts like their dad."_

_"Shut up you perverted old man!" But all thought at fighting stopped as Roy began sucking above his collarbone, bruising the teen's neck._

_Ed sighed contentedly as he continued to eat, making Roy move his head to the top of Ed's._

"Love you, shrimp."

"Love you too, bastard."


	5. Hometown

_Summary: The twins are five, and they and Ed are getting to visit Roy's hometown for the first time._

**Hometown**

Ed smiled as he listened to Roy in the back seat with the twins. "Over there, on the right, that's the soda shop where your Auntie and I used to go to get those cherry phosphates and malts that were so much better than any place in Central."

He could hear Raine chuckling beside him in the passenger seat. "Roy they probably tasted better because we were kids when we had them. Everything tastes better and seems bigger and grander when you're seven and ten years old."

"Tasted better to me," Roy said, almost childishly. Ed glanced up in the rearview mirror, seeing his husband smile as the twins sat on his lap, leaning from window to window.

"So, we're really here?" Nicholas said. "We're where you grew up?"

"If that sign is anything to go by," Ed said. "I'd have to say we are."

"Welcome to Amhon, birthplace of Fuhrer Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist," Raine read, then huffed. "And what about Raine Mustang, older sister and doctor extraordinaire?"

"I could make a comment, but I'll refrain myself," Ed said. "Since you're giving the directions."

"Good idea, Baby."

"Auntie," Aideen's voice asked from the back. "Why do you call Daddy a baby?"

"Because it's her nickname for me," he said.

"Like you call me Squirt?" Nicholas asked.

"Or me Princess?"

"Yep, same thing."

"But Daddy's not much like a baby."

"But he was so young when the two of you were born. I couldn't help myself."

"Not to mention the fact that your daddy's so short," Roy joked.

"Who are you calling short?" Ed asked. "You should be glad the twins are back there with you and not strapped in like they should be, or I'd have slammed on the brakes so hard you'd be flying into the windshield."

Ed glanced up to the rearview mirror to see Roy giving him a smug little wink.

0o0o0o0

As though a soda connoisseur, Aideen swished the red liquid around in her mouth, Nicholas leaning forward just a bit as he sat on Ed's left.

"Hmm-mm," she said as she swallowed. "Nope. Not any different from Central."

"I'm telling you," Roy said, taking a drink from his daughter's straw, looking crestfallen as he realized the truth. "It really isn't any different, is it?"

"Oh, don't take it so hard," Ed said, patting his husband's hand. "There was a time when I thought Auntie Pinako was a great cook, too."

"You're kidding!" Nicholas said, turning as he knelt on the wooden bench to look his father in the eyes. "Didn't your mommy ever make you anything? You said grandma was a really good cook."

Ed ruffled his son's hair. "She was, but Auntie Pinako made different food, and when I was eating there I was usually starving."

"You'd have to be," Aideen said, earning two surprised looks from her parents. "What? Granny Pinako can't cook. Even I know that."

Roy squeezed Aideen tightly in his arm. "Well, now that I'm thoroughly disillusioned, are you two ready to go with your Auntie Raine to the stables?"

"Can we really ride the horses there?" Nicholas asked

"Yes," Roy said, a smile on his face as he continued to hold Ed's automail hand.

"I want to ride one of the really big ones. With the furry hooves," Nicholas said.

"It's called a Clydesdale, and no. You'll ride a pony, Nicholas, and you can just tuck that little pouting lip back in your mouth," Ed said, inwardly rolling his eyes at his son's short-lived enthusiasm.

"So, are my two rodeo stars ready?" Raine asked as she leaned over the back of Ed's booth.

Two little heads bobbed excitedly as Ed and Roy stood to let their children out. Ed glanced up at Raine, seeing the smile on her face. The woman could be annoying, even more so than her brother, but she did love the twins and, Ed supposed, Roy and him as well. Sometimes, though, when Ed saw her smile as freely as she did it made him wonder what that smile would have looked like on Roy's nearly identical features. Admittedly, it wasn't the same as the open, happy smile he'd seen on both their faces in a shot from a year before they'd lost their parents, but for the most part, Raine had always done everything she could to save lives while Roy… well… Roy had a lot on his conscience.

Aideen waved back as she left while Nicholas was pulling Raine by the arm to get to the horses faster.

Roy stood at the counter, insisting he get to pay the bill for the sodas and hotdogs, and finally, he won, as he ually did.

"Really, we don't want to take your money, Roy," an older woman said from across the counter, "but since you're fuhrer and all, you can probably afford it." She smiled at him. "We're all so proud of you here, and your husband's just wonderful."

"Well, Ed, here understands small town life. He's from Risembool." Roy took Ed's hand in his own.

"We know that, Roy," the woman said with a smile to Ed. "You think we haven't read and cut out every article about our hometown boy?"

"Well, I hope you did about my sister, too, she's feeling a little left out."

"You know we did."

Roy and Ed said their goodbyes and left the little soda shop. "You could stay with the twins if you want," Roy said. "You don't have to come with me."

"You've met my bastard father, and you've been to my mother's grave…" Ed's voice drifted off, remembering the first time Roy had been to his mother's gravesite when Ed had been unable to take care of getting some piece of his mother to fight Sloth with. He felt the hand holding his own give a tight squeeze before they were in the car, traveling to the graveyard.

0o0o0o0

Ed leaned his head against Roy's shoulder as they stood in silence, arms around one another's backs. Roy had a tear running down his cheek, but he wasn't overwhelmed with grief, apparently having made his peace with his parents' death long ago.

Ed looked at the two stones, side by side, sharing the same date of death. It was terrible that Roy and Raine had lost their parents at such a young age, but looking at the fact that the couple had gotten to go together seemed almost romantic, in a dark, tragic sort of way. Looking up at his husband, Ed realized something he hadn't before. It would take something as abrupt as a car crash or a disaster to ensure that he never needed to spend a day without his husband—not that he wanted that to occur any time soon.

Side by side, the two alchemists walked down the knoll to the black car waiting for them, Roy getting into the driver's seat this time, Ed almost unable to stop looking at him.

"What?" Roy finally asked. "Ed? Are you okay?"

"It just dawned on me." Ed struggled to keep his emotion only surprise at the revelation, not to cry like a simpering girl as a tiny but obnoxiously loud part of him wanted to. "There's thirteen years between us."

"And at what point did that little nugget of information strike you? It wasn't when you were still a teenager on my thirtieth birthday or when I was in my thirties by the time you turned twenty?"

Ed scowled, refraining from telling his husband off at the moment. "I mean, I'm healthy, athletic and thirteen years younger than you. I'm almost certainly going to outlive you."

He could see on Roy's face that same need to make a cutting comment halted by the sudden onslaught of all the questions that had come to Ed's mind with this problem.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Roy finally managed, rubbing his hand over Ed's cheek.

"Not for you maybe, but I don't…" Damn it, this was getting mushier and more sickening by the second. "I don't like the idea of having to go on all that time without you."

Roy pulled the car over, giving him the opportunity to look Ed full in the face. "And here I thought I was the romantic."

"This isn't romantic," Ed said. "I think something is warped in my head. I don't want to die, but…"

Roy pulled Ed across the seat, and the smaller man found himself being wrapped with the older man's arms.

"It isn't warped Ed, there are stories of couples who after one dies, the other follows shortly after, no height joke intended."

"But, let's say you go at seventy, there's no way I'll be near it at fifty-seven."

"Well, what if I promise you barring all disasters or accidents, I'll try to make it to one hundred."

"I've seen your health habits, Roy Mustang. That would just be a lie." Ed couldn't help but feel wrong even discussing this.

"Eighty then? Aiming for eighty-five?"

"You know you can't really promise that."

"But I can try." Roy kissed the top of Ed's head. "And I'll try if you promise not to do something really stupid that takes you away from me too early."

Ed looked up at Roy, sitting on his knees as he looked Roy in his remaining eye. "It's a deal." He ran a hand through the black hair before pulling the man's head to his own, tenderly kissing the thin lips, moaning into his husband's mouth as it opened willingly, allowing Ed's tongue to slowly and lovingly trace each ridge, massage along the other man's pink tongue.

He ended the kiss and had Roy's body tightly to his own, hearing the faintest whisper in his ear. "I love you."


	6. Trying to be a Man

_A/N: This one is kind of a sad one, but here we have Roy at 16 and Raine at 19. (Sorry, no Ed here. He was 3 an in Risembool)_

**Trying to Be a Man**

He looked in the mirror early that morning, not surprised by what he found. He'd known last night there was going to be a much darker bruise than the one already present, a nice black and blue shiner over his eye. For the sixteen-year-old, it would be a first, but then again, Roy had never felt he desire to hit someone so much as he had his sister's ex-boyfriend.

Groaning in resignation that there would be no denying what he'd done the night before, knowing that, honestly, his much-to-observant older sister probably already suspected. If not the specific thing he'd done when he'd seen the son of a bitch on a date with someone else, she had to have known he'd been covering something when he had come home last night, trying to keep the slowly swelling eye out of her line of sight.

Roy pushed the door open to his Raine's room, looking at his sister curled around one of the pillows on her bed. He bit his lower lip as he watched her and tried to ignore the feeling of remorse for her that was slowly welling up in his chest. She'd started sleeping like that after she'd gotten so sick, after she'd lost the baby.

Roy sighed quietly. He would have been an uncle for an entire week if things had gone the way they were supposed to, if Raine hadn't gotten sick and miscarried, if an infection hadn't started eating away at her uterus so quickly the doctors barely saved it and her, if her bastard boyfriend hadn't dumped her as soon as the baby had been lost, if she hadn't received word from their own father, the chief doctor in the area, that having another child could be risky not to mention difficult.

He looked in his parents' room, surprised to see their bed empty. He'd known they'd be late getting home, so he hadn't expected them to be awake at six in the morning. Hell, he wouldn't have been awake at six in the morning on a Sunday if his eye hadn't started feeling like someone was putting an icepick through it.

Slowly, he went down the steps of their little townhouse—which was what his mother lovingly referred to the modest rowhouse as—and looked around the little hallway. He'd never hear the end of his black eye if his father or sister saw. Both hated violence of any kind. His mother, who had taught him the finer points of air alchemy, on the other hand had already threatened to use her slight talent at fire alchemy to burn off Raine's ex's most private areas for leaving, a threat that was all the more frightening since she wasn't very skilled at that area of alchemy.

The hall was dark, as were all of the adjoining rooms. Going out to the kitchen, he looked in the fridge for one of the small steaks to put on his eye, knowing he should have done so last night, but wouldn't have dared to with his sister watching him like a hawk.

With a sigh of relief, he felt the cool of the meat relieve some of the pain.

"I wondered if you'd ever admit you'd gotten yourself hurt, Pyro," said Raine's voice from behind him.

"If you knew last night that I'd injured myself, why didn't you say something so that I could do this earlier?" He said, still holding the steak.

"You'd hardly learn your lesson if I did that." With his right eye, Roy watched as his sister came closer, putting her cool hand over his and pulling the steak down. "Let's have a look." Roy raised his eyebrows, only to hiss in pain. "Don't look so surprised, Roy." Her tone was almost unreadable, but he knew she wasn't angry at him if she was calling him by name. "Not only will it hurt your eye, but I appreciate the gesture, no matter how barbaric or stupid."

"How do you—"

"Min saw you and let me know what to expect before you'd gotten home." Tentatively, her cool fingers traced the edges of the bruise around his left eye. "What did you think you were doing fighting him, Roy? A shrimp like you can't just go taking someone that big on."

"Stop calling me a shrimp. I had a growth spurt last month." Despite the fact he'd tried to be "a man" and deal with the bastard the night before, he couldn't help but inwardly wince at how childish his words sounded.

"You're still three inches shorter than me, Pyro. You're a shrimp." Raine shook her head, picking up a notebook from the table and a pen. "I'll do a transmutation that will take down some of the swelling and the worst of the bruising." She scribbled a bit of the alchemy Roy had never really had any talent for, despite the obvious aptitude his older sister had for their father's art. "Really, it would be easier if I didn't have to draw this all the time. Just have the basics handy."

"You're telling me," Roy said. "It's a pain trying to do fire alchemy when you have to find something to create a spark and concentrate on the transmutation."

Raine smiled at him, laying the paper over his aching eye and performing her magic. Roy barely contained the moan at the easing of the pain. "Better, little brother?"

"Much."

There was a knock to the door, making both siblings look to one another. "Hopefully that's Mother and Father," Raine said. "I'm getting worried about them."

Following his sister as she went into the hall to open the door, Roy felt unbelievably confused. The last time he'd gotten in a fight, when someone had called him a runt and made fun of him for being able to do alchemy, Raine had lectured him for hours about not sinking down to the same level of the bullies who'd teased him, and that didn't even take into account the fact that his own parents had expressed their own disappointment in him for hours before.

"Raine Mustang?" A military police officer said, to which she nodded. "I need to inform you of an accident that occurred last night."

"An accident?" she asked as Roy made his way to her side and grabbed hold of her hand, ignoring his bruised knuckles from the fight the night before. He knew this wasn't good. At the very least, his parents were hurt. And they were possibly…

"Late last night, a man we believe to be under the influence of large amounts of alcohol was traveling the same road as your parents, swerved into the other lane and struck their vehicle head-on." Raine squeezed Roy's hand. "I'm afraid that no one survived the accident."

"No!" Roy yelled at the man over a head taller than him. "No! It's not true! No!"

With that, Roy found himself wrapped tightly in his sister's arms, and despite his best struggles, she wasn't letting him go.


	7. Fetish

**Fetish**

Roy stood on the platform, letting the tailor measure his arms, a look of bored disinterest on his face. He needed a new suit, he knew that, but the simple fact was he hated going through this process. He got to spend so little time at home with his family, and being measured and poked with needles simply wasn't his idea of fun. This was all so ritualized, he'd hold his arm out, he'd feel the man wrap measuring tape around it, then hold it lengthwise.

Honestly, all of his suits still fit him quite perfectly. He certainly hadn't put on any weight living with Ed the last three years. The twenty-year-old was still the closest thing to a human garbage disposal Roy had ever met and he insisted on sparring every chance they got, insisting it was a "necessary skill" for the older man. Roy still felt it was all done on that pretense so the younger, faster, automail-endowed, fully-sighted man could kick his ass.

And, as Roy was thinking of Ed, sparring against him, or even better against Al, he smiled, trying to keep any lecherous thoughts at bay. Proud of his success for only a few moments before he felt the strange sensation of something metal against his skin at his neck, Roy found filthier thoughts flooding his mind and his body responding properly to them.

"Wh-what is that?" Roy stammered.

"Merely a tool to measure your neck properly, fuhrer, sir," the tailor said. "Now, we'll get the uncomfortable part of this out of the way." If only the man knew, Roy thought to himself as he willed the lower regions of his body to settle as the metal item was removed from his neck. "We'll go ahead and check your inseam."

Roy tried to think of something, anything that would turn him off. Dead puppies, General Armstrong in a miniskirt, Ed in a miniskirt… okay, that one was definitely not helping. Ed's reaction to Roy fantasizing about him in a miniskirt. The guaranteed castration that would follow if he ever suggested such a thing.

Roy hadn't completely deflated, but his pants and boxers didn't seem quite so tight.

Practicing a bit of deep breathing, Roy managed to gain a bit more control as the tailor asked him if he still dressed to his left. Though he'd answered the question dozens of times before, it took Roy's lust-clouded mind a moment to regain itself and remember what that phrase meant in reference to getting a new suit. When finally he realized that yes, he still situated his currently misbehaving bits to the left, he answered in the affirmative and allowed the man to continue his work.

0o0o0o0

He sat at his desk later that afternoon, trying to figure out why he'd reacted like that in the tailor's. He'd been fitted for suits many times before and aside from one time as a teenager he had never lost control over himself that way before. It was strange that it came right after that thing hit his neck. Experimentally, he put his gloved hand to the back of his neck, finding nothing happened. He grabbed one of his pens, one of the red plastic ones Ed had bought in bulk, after Roy, who had the tendency to chew the things when stressed, practically chipped his right canines on a metal pen after a particularly tense meeting with some of parliament.

He moved the pen up to the back of his neck, again, finding nothing.

Then, he saw the solid steel letter opener on his desk. He grabbed the bladelike end in his hand, moving the slim handle to the back of his neck, finding that once again his body responding, flashes of a naked, sweat-covered Ed in the midst of passion, his automail slipping to its familiar spot on his neck, bringing Roy's member back to life again.

With a slight toss of the offending object, Roy watched the letter opener twirl a bit on his desk before it finally stopped, his expression one of complete shock. For a few moments, the back of his mind fully aware of why that object had giving him the same reaction but still not sharing with the rest of his brain, he glared at the thing, forgetting for a moment that his alchemy didn't work just through hard stares.

0o0o0o0

When he got home, Ed was sitting, reading a book in the library, the twins in the back yard with Al and Winry, playing a game of hide and seek. Roy stormed into the room where his husband lounged sideways in one of the wing chairs, left foot jiggling over the arm. Languidly a set of gold eyes looked up from the pages of the book, as though trying to figure out exactly why Roy was so mad.

"You have completely ruined me," Roy said, frustrated.

"Excuse me?" Ed said, setting the book on the floor face down, still open to the page he'd been reading, a habit of the blond's that under normal circumstances, Roy would have pointed out as something which destroyed the spine of the book.

"I…" Roy was mad, along with a few other things, but he wanted to stay mad and not turn this to something else. "I was at the tailors and he measured my neck, and do you have any idea what my reaction was?"

"Um… No," Ed said. "'Fraid I'm not a mind reader, Roy."

"I got hard."

"And it's my fault…because?" Ed said, taking a quick glance down at Roy's crotch.

Roy stormed over to Ed, grabbing hold of the younger man's right wrist, flopping his husband's hand a bit as he did. "Because of this." He let go of Ed and walked back through the room, trying to ignore the sound of derisive laughter behind him.

"Aww…" his husband managed between chuckles, "big bad fuhrer's got a metal fetish. And it's all his young hubby's fault." Roy turned to make a comment, only to find that Ed was standing within arms reach of him. "So you're saying all I have to do is this," Ed darted his hand beneath the back of Roy's collar. "and you'll get hard?" Roy hissed just a bit at the feeling of the metal warmed only slightly by Ed's body heat against the sensitive skin at the back of his neck. As the left hand reached toward Roy's pants, cupping a very erect member, the laughter returned. "Apparently so."

The metal hand moving, tickling at his neck had Roy weak in the knees, leaning against the desk.

"Seems fair really." The automail fingers began scratching between Roy's shoulder blades, left hand kneading the hardened lump in the wool uniform.

"How… so?" Roy asked, trying to keep his breathing steady.

"Because thanks to a certain arrogant bastard, I have a thing for low voices. How often does something metal come into contact with your bare skin that isn't attached to me?" Ed began kissing Roy's neck, his hands never stopping. "How often do you think I hear a voice that finely walks the border between bass and baritone?" Ed's right hand moved to the front of Roy's neck, tickling below his chin and jaw.

"Damn it, Ed," Roy said, trying to keep from doing exactly what Ed was trying to achieve.

"So we're weak when it comes to one another, big deal." A few more skilled moves of both the hand turning him on and the one getting him off had Roy soiling his boxers and pants, trying to stifle a cry at his completion, turning it into a very loud moan of satisfaction. "I see you doing anything kinky with the stove, we'll talk about it being a problem. Otherwise," Ed said, grinding his hips into Roy's thigh, "your little noises and that nice moan gave me a little problem of my own."

"We've horribly ruined one another, haven't we?" Roy said with a predatory grin as he wrapped his arm around the smaller man.

"Damned good thing we're together, isn't it?" Ed said with a smirk.


	8. First Time

**First Time**

Kain held Frank's hand as they walked down the road together, sensing the man's nervousness. Frank wanted to pull away, but Kain held onto the calloused hand tightly. He would do everything in his power to convince this man that they were not in his prejudiced England.

Unfortunately, the angry glares the two were getting from people they passed on the street certainly didn't help. Though Kain didn't have the death glare that both Ed and Roy were capable of, he was more than capable of exchanging angry looks. He found that when said looks were directed at the man at his side, he was more than capable. Frank called him a poodle that thought he was a pit bull when he got like this, which only managed to infuriate him more when he was in a particularly defensive mood.

It had been a long night before they reached their apartment they shared. Frank was looking especially defeated. "Those ignorant, stupid people! Why can't they see that you are not the same man?"

"I'm growing accustomed to it."

"Well, you shouldn't have to," Kain said, looking up defiantly at the cool blue eyes. "You're a good man." The anger was lingering, but Kain didn't want to direct it at Frank. He raised his hand to the taller man's cheek. "I'm just sorry that the Archer of this world has made so may people so blind."

As always, Frank leaned into Kain's touch, and that fact still left Kain torn, unsure whether he was glad he made the man respond that way or that a simple touch or angry that Frank always seemed so unaccustomed to it. It was a strange thought when he considered that he'd found a Frank Archer that he felt so strongly for, that he was certain he loved.

It was just as strange that the kiss that followed that touch was so tender. Frank could be passionate when he wanted, but moments like these the spy, the man who'd probably looked men in the eye even as he had to kill them, could manage to be gentle when he kissed.

The sweet kiss continued, growing in intensity as the two almost unconsciously moved to remove clothes. "Kain," Frank rasped into the smaller man's ear. "If we don't stop, we're going to break our agreement that we not take this to the bedroom."

Kain rubbed his hands beneath Frank's shirt, fingertips tickling over hardening nipples covered by the ribbed material of the tank he wore beneath. "We've been together long enough now. I think…" Kain shook his head. "I know I'm ready." His large brown eyes studied the pale face above him. "But only if you—"

The smaller man found himself abruptly cut off by a set of lips, a demanding tongue moving into his mouth, moving against Kain's own. The two made their way to Frank's bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind them.

"Just promise me we won't ruin this." Frank's hand gestured between them; he was obviously still nervous about their relationship and how badly his previous one had ended.

"Not a chance." Kain said, pulling off his glasses before pulling off his undershirt. With his blurred vision, he could see Frank sitting on the bed, he supposed to remove some of the remaining items of clothes. The older man was still wearing his boxers, even as he slid back on the bed, looking up at Kain. Not for the first time in his life, he cursed his poor eyesight, this time for preventing him from seeing the expression on the taller man's face.

"I'll warn you that I haven't done this in a while." Frank extended a hand to Kain and pulled him onto the bed, and though it was hard to make out without his glasses, Kain would have sworn Frank was offering Kain the top position.

Frank pulled the smaller man down, pressing their lips to one another again. "How blind are you without your glasses?"

"Good enough, a little blurry."

"Good to know." And once again, Frank pulled Kain to his level, maneuvering the smaller man between his legs.

"Are you actually asking me to…"

As though nervous, Frank pushed himself up with his arms, nearly bumping their heads together. It brought their faces close enough for their eyes to see into one another. "I trust you."

Kain knew how much that meant for the older man, how hard it was for him to trust. And he was offering himself to Kain in the show of ultimate trust. "I'll warn you that I don't have a wealth of experience in this position. But you know I'll do everything I can to make this good for you."

This time, Frank raised his hand to Kain's face. "Of course you will."

Kain moved slowly as he pulled the boxers from his older lover, because if they were preparing to do this, that was what they were to one another. Removing the only remaining item of clothing from the ivory expanse of skin, Kain looked at the already hardened erection of the older man. Kain moved to slide his own boxers off, to put them in similar states, all the while dipping his head down to take his lover into his mouth. It must have been unexpected, as Frank moaned loudly and thrust upward. Kain smiled around his boyfriend's erection, making Frank once again repeat the sound and spread himself out willingly.

Kain released the taller man's member with a pop, looking up to try and meet the eyes that were hardly more than blurs. "In the drawer, Frank. Get the bottle."

The long, lean yet muscular body turned to get the bottle of oil from the drawer and hand it to Kain.

"Just do your best to relax." Kain smeared the oil onto his hands, rubbing down the strong milky thighs, stroking over the upright member, rolling over Frank's balls, then down the puckered opening beneath. He began preparing Frank as though this was going to be a very intimate massage, nothing more. He waited for the older man to pull away as he pushed the first finger inside, but Frank was obviously concentrating to keep himself relaxed.

The process was slow as Kain tried to stretch the ring of muscles surrounding his fingers, all the while, Kain did everything possible that he could to make it pleasurable for his partner. Each time he struck the man's prostate, Frank threw his head back and cried out with an abandon not usually seen in the older man—unless it was when Frank lost his temper. Kain would never have termed Frank a "screamer" but he was definitely louder than the younger man had ever expected.

When it was finally time for Kain to enter Frank, he looked down at the beautiful man, his alabaster face beaded with sweat as Kain moved slowly into the older man, kissing the expanse of lightly scarred chest, flicking his tongue around a nipple. He loved the salty taste of the other man's skin against his tongue.

"You feel so amazing," Kain said.

Frank held Kain's head to his chest. "Move, Kain, please move."

It was a steady, gentle pace at first, all the while Kain kissed over the beautiful man's neck, lacing his fingers into Frank's hair, all the while the older man tried to wrap his legs around the younger's hips. The pace grew more fevered, the two men moving in time with one another, thrust meeting thrust. Kain wrapped his hand around Frank's member and began pumping.

"Oh, damn, Kain."

"Frank," Kain said. "Frank, oh, Frank."

And in near unison, the two cried out one another's names, spilling their release. Within moments, Kain collapsed on top of Frank's messy chest.

But it was when he saw tears flowing from his older lover's eyes that Kain grew nervous. "Frank," he said. "Frank, please tell me I didn't hurt you."

"No," Frank said. "No. I just… damn it." Kain leaned forward and kissed the corners of each eye. "You tell anyone I cried after sex, I'll kill you."

"You tell anyone that it was just sex and that we didn't just make love, I'll kill you." Kain said with a smile.

Frank wrapped his arms around Kain. "It's a deal, love."


	9. I Do

_A/N: Since I didn't include this in either story, you get it here. Our boys' wedding._

**I Do**

Roy and Ed walked into the courthouse, each carrying one of the twins while holding one another's hands. Those closest to them were filing into the building behind them, and Ed could only tilt his head up to look at the older man at that moment. He was not a sentimental person, but there was something about knowing that in a few minutes, this man would be his husband that brought out what little romanticism he had out.

Roy caught his eyes, grinning down at him as he jiggled Nicholas in his arms. "I think he's getting fussy," the older man said.

Ed nodded, but worried what would happen if either baby cried before he could get to them. He was wearing a very good suit, and he knew well enough what happened to his body when he heard them crying.

"I can take Aideen," Al said at Ed's side. "That way you're not holding them and trying to say your vows." Ed thanked his brother and handed over the little girl who had been resting comfortably in his automail arm.

Winry, much to everyone's surprise, went up to Roy's side and made the same offer to him.

"I can hold Nicholas if you need me to," she said, looking up at him with an expression of calm that Al would not have expected considering how awkward things between the two now that both were aware of what had happened in Ishbal and both knew the other did.

Roy nodded and passed the baby with his tuft of blond hair to Winry. She naturally cooed and jiggled Nicholas. The younger groom could see that one day she would make a good mother, and guessing by the way his brother looked at her—out of real eyes, finally—he thought that it might be to his nieces and nephews.

"Well, then," the judge said, looking at Ed and Roy, "you do realize I am not qualified to do an alchemist wedding, don't you?"

"We know," Roy said. "But today, we want to get married. An alchemist wedding isn't required for that." He squeezed Ed's hand, and the teen wanted to tear up, then cursed himself for feeling that way. Apparently, the hormones that let him feed the twins also were messing with his emotions, though it wasn't as intense as it had been a few weeks ago.

Roy leaned down and hugged Ed with one arm, pulling him close enough that it covered the momentary rush of emotions. Thankfully, Ed was able to just feel grateful, rather than sobbing at Roy's tact at the moment. There was a plus to no longer being pregnant.

"Well, then," the judge said, "step forward."

The teen and his fiancé did as instructed and stood in front of the judge. "Your names?"

"Edward Warren Elric," Ed said. He didn't love his middle name, but it could have been worse. It was his initials that he hated: EWE.

"Do you need the middle names?" Roy asked.

At that, the teen's eyes darted up and looked at the soon-to-be fuhrer. It struck him that he didn't know the other man's middle name. Roy was really stalling here, and Ed had to wonder why exactly.

"Yes, for purposes of record," the judge said.

Roy sighed, and Ed could swear he heard Havoc snickering. Though that could have been over the fact that he'd jammed the little blond groom into the wedding cake to emphasize how short Ed was; not that he was short, but in comparison to Roy, he just wasn't tall.

"Roy Irving Mustang," Roy said.

Ed felt he deserved an award. Not only did he manage to keep a straight face at the name itself, he didn't burst out into laughter when his mind realized what the older man's initials were: RIM.

Roy scowled a little at Ed, and the blond assumed his future husband had spotted the mirth in Ed's eyes that couldn't be hidden, despite his best efforts.

"Will either be taking the other's name?" the judge asked.

"I'm staying an Elric and he's staying a Mustang," Ed said.

The judge then looked at the crowd around him. "Well, then, let's begin."

The two men took hands and stood to face one another, Nicholas quietly fussing in the background, Aideen asleep beside him in her uncle's arms.

"Do you, Edward Warren Elric take Roy Irving Mustang as your husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until parted by death?"

"I do," Ed said, squeezing Roy's hands in his.

"Do you, Roy Irving Mustang take Edward Warren Elric as your husband, to have and to hold in sickness and in health, until parted by death?"

"I do," Roy said, squeezing Ed's hands as the younger man had done.

"Do you have rings?" the judge asked.

"I've got them," Raine said, holding out the two platinum bands.

"You may now exchange the rings," the white-haired man said.

Roy took the band first and slide it onto Ed's finger next to the engagement ring, activating the transmutation circle that twisted the two metals together into a single ring. Ed then repeated the action, doing the same.

"I now pronounce that you two have joined your lives together in marriage. You may show a sign of your love and affection for one another."

Ed looked up at Roy with a broad grin and pulled the taller man down to kiss him, only half-hearing the sound of Nicholas crying in the background. Roy eagerly pressed their lips together, and the two men lightly brushed their tongues together in the kiss before breaking it and turning to their friends and family.

"Go out into the world now as a couple."

Nicholas was now crying loudly, and Ed's happy expression broke for just a moment with a slight look of panic. He'd worried about this and thought it just couldn't happen, wouldn't happen during his wedding. There was nothing he could do at the moment, except for grabbing hold of his noisy little boy and feeding him before things got worse, so he plastered a smile back on and went to take Nicholas from Winry.

"You may use the lounge if you want to have a small party," the judge offered after looking out at the window and seeing the crowd of people outside. Most of the small gathering who witnessed the wedding filed out while Roy took Aideen back from her uncle, who knowingly followed the rest of the friends and family after Aideen was out of his hands.

"Ed?" Roy asked. "Are you okay?"

The blond looked up at his new husband, seeing the worry on his face. "I need to find a bathroom or something. Nicholas is hungry."

The judge opened a door. "Use my chambers," he said. "I have a trial that I'm heading to at the moment."

Ed thanked the man and went into the office.

"Ed? You looked a little anxious earlier. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just…" he sighed and handed Nicholas to Roy so he could unbutton his suit jacket. "I just got another reason to hate milk." When the jacket was removed, the teen revealed two wet spots on his white shirt, and he heard snickering above him.

"Don't you dare laugh," he said, dangerously. "Or I'll find a way to make sure you can help out with the feeding duties."

Eyes widened slightly, Roy bit his lip to keep from laughing as Ed unbuttoned the white dress shirt and pushed aside the undershirt beneath. "Give him to me," he said, taking a seat on the leather sofa in the judge's chambers.

The older man nodded and handed over Nicholas. "Not exactly how I expected to start our married life," he said, gently bouncing Aideen.

"No," Ed said, as he held Nicholas to his chest, "but I didn't exactly plan to ever be pregnant either, so this isn't much of a surprise."

"I guess not," Roy said. He took a seat beside Ed and wrapped an arm around him. "You know that I think you're absolutely amazing, don't you?"

"Yeah, you're not so bad either." He grinned up at Roy.

"Brat," his husband said before kissing him on the cheek.


	10. Happy Christmas

_A/N: Okay, this one's a Christmas theme. Partially, it's a request of Sadlergirl on lj. She really likes my Frank/Kain pairing. I also had a request from samuraigirllrf on So, I am sharing with everyone._

**Happy Christmas**

Frank huffed as he sat down on the sofa beside Kain. "I have to work late on the 24th," he said.

"I thought you didn't mind doing the late shifts," Kain said, turning slightly to look at his lover better. "And you get the next day off, right?"

"I don't mind them, and yes I do." Frank looked over at Kain. "I know this seems ridiculous, but if I was back home…" Unintentionally, Kain winced at that, though he knew Frank would probably always consider Earth his home. He had spent around forty years there, and only a few months here with Kain, and yet it hurt. "I didn't mean it like that. If I was back home with my mother, my childhood home, Kain." Frank took the younger man's hand, looking at him imploringly with those winter blue eyes of his.

"I'm too easy to read," Kain said.

"When you're with me," Frank said. "I've seen you hide things much better when you're doing an interrogation."

Kain pulled his older lover down to rest his head at his lap. "So what is it about the 24th that is bothering you so much?"

Frank sighed and rolled onto his back so that he was looking up at Kain. "It's a holiday on Earth. Well, the 25th is, but part of it is the 24th as well."

Kain ran his hand through Frank's black hair, noting that while there was no gray to be seen, it wasn't overly thick. "So, tell me about it."

"It's a little hard to explain to an atheist with no experience with the holiday," Frank said. "And even if I can put it in simple terms, it's going to sound ridiculous."

"Give it a try," Kain said.

Frank sighed. "Fine, but it's going to sound bloody well stupid." He looked up at Kain, but as he spoke, his eyes really weren't looking at the younger man; instead, they seemed to be recalling celebrating this holiday from his youth.

"First of all, it is a religious holiday. It's based around Christianity, which is pretty much the dominating religion in England, even if it has its different branches and traditions. This holiday, though, is pretty standard for all of them."

"I thought you weren't much of a religious man," Kain said.

"I'm not," Frank answered. "But for me, this holiday was about getting to see my grandparents, who lived several hours away from my home with my mum. It was also a day when my mum would be home, making preparations, doing everything she could to make the day special."

"It was about family."

"Mm-hmm." Frank reached at arm up and lightly brushed over Kain's cheek. "But it all started with the Christmas story, the religious beginnings of it all. You see, the God of Christianity was believed to have had a son who was born to a human woman. A virgin human woman, no less."

"How would she be a virgin if—"

"It was one of those things you just didn't question." Frank started playing with the buttons on Kain's shirt, pulling at them, running a finger around them. "There are a lot of those in religion. But anyway, we celebrated his birth on December 25, though it would likely have been during times of better weather."

Kain nodded, though he didn't entirely understand.

"Anyway, to celebrate his birth, a lot of traditions have gradually built up around the holiday. Like giving gifts to your loved ones on the 25th."

"Like a birthday," Kain said. At least that made sense.

"Yes. But as other saints in the religion turned up, and traditions changed and were added, it gets more complex."

Kain continued to comb his fingers through Frank's hair. "So try to explain it to me."

"Well, Father Christmas, who is based off of a saint who died years ago, supposedly comes into people's houses through their chimneys late at night on the 24th, bringing presents to girls and boys."

"Isn't that breaking and entering?" Kain asked.

"He doesn't steal anything," Frank said, an amused grin on his face.

"Still breaking and entering. I didn't say anything about burglary." Kain shook his head. "I'd be scared if someone came into my house through the chimney. At least as a kid."

"He doesn't really," Frank said with a chuckle. "And he's not exactly intimidating, wearing a long red robe and holly sprigs in his hair."

Kain tried to imagine it, and the only pictures he could come up with were disturbing on a different level all together.

"But kids hang stockings over the fireplace, which Father Christmas fills with gifts. Or he puts them under the Christmas tree."

"You have a tree specifically for this holiday? Where's it at?" Kain asked.

"It's a small tree, one you put in your house. Not outside."

"Oh," Kain said.

"I'm just confusing you," Frank said, starting to sit up.

Kain held him down. "No, you're not, well, not completely. Tell me more about it."

Frank resigned himself to Kain's lap, not that he was really fighting all that much. "Well, the tree, you decorate it with lights or candles."

"Open flames and a tree?"

"You're very careful about it," Frank said. "Mum and I would make garland by stringing popcorn together and making paper chains to wrap around the tree."

"Wait a minute," Kain said, big brown eyes looking down at Frank. "Open flames, a tree, and paper?"

"Did I mention very, very careful?" Frank said with a grin. "We'd also decorate it with little cookies to hang on the limbs or candies. Things that as a boy I could eat later." Kain smiled down at the older man, seeing some of the hardened lines fading from his face as he talked about obviously fond memories of this holiday. "Oh, and Christmas crackers. I loved those. They were these rolled tubes of paper and cardboard with little strips of paper that had a chemical on them to make a cracking sound. Inside was a corny little paper crown that naturally, you're supposed to wear, regardless of age. There would also be a joke, even a little treat or small gift of some kind."

"I guess you liked the crackers?"

Frank nodded. "Mum could never buy more than one of them for me, but… well, it was appreciated."

Kain rubbed a hand over Frank's face. "It sounds like it."

"And we'd put decorations up, red and green. Usually just paper or painted nuts or cookies. Nothing expensive."

Kain nodded; naturally, it wouldn't have been expensive, knowing that Frank's mother had raised him alone on a very small salary. "It sounds very nice."

"It was," Frank said, and Kain couldn't help but notice that despite the very happy smile on his lover's face, there was a rim of tears at his eyes.

0o0o0o0

Frank took out his key to unlock the door to their apartment. It was late. Nearly midnight.

He swore he could smell something baking inside, not that it was surprising. Kain was a good cook and a fairly decent baker.

He opened the door and was surprised by pieces of randomly cut red and green paper that were hooked to every wall. It actually took some straining to see if there was wallpaper beneath the red and green.

"Kain?" Frank said, stepping through the kitchen, definitely smelling cookies. However, it took all the stoicism the older man had to refrain from laughing when he got to the living room. The decorations continued from there, where a small Ficus, still in its pot, was decorated with a string of large white lightbulbs that drug down the little tree's poor branches. Cookies that had been hung up while they were obviously still warm had fallen to the floor, unable to hold their weight at a warm stage, and a half-made popcorn garland was strung to the tree, along with a white paper chain.

On their fireplace was a pair of sheer black women's stockings filled with gifts, none wrapped, all plain to see: a tie, a jeweler's box likely holding a watch, two things that fairly resembled crackers, and a picture of Frank and Kain in a small frame that had poked through the silk of the stockings.

Standing next to it all was Kain, dressed in a long red bathrobe, with pieces of holly in his hair at odd angles, a few sticking out from his glasses.

"I got it wrong, didn't I?" Kain said. "When the cookies started falling off the tree and the popcorn was just too hard to tie together, I knew I got it wrong."

"You use a thread and needle to hook the popcorn together," Frank said, still wanting to laugh, but tears coming to his eyes despite it all.

"I'm sorry. I've probably ruined all of your good memories with this disaster." Kain hung his head.

Frank just walked swiftly across the room and wrapped his arms around the smaller man. "You've made an entirely new set of good memories," Frank said. "You got a lot of it wrong, but the most important part, you got right. It's about family." He kissed the younger man. "And doing something that means something for them." He kissed him again. "You've done that."

He looked over his shoulder at the stockings. "The crackers look about right. How did you manage them?"

"Ed made them for me, though they might be overdoing things a little. He looked a little too excited to make them."

"We'll open them outside." Frank looked back at Kain. "Very, very carefully."

Kain nodded as their little wall clock struck midnight. "Happy Christmas, Frank."

"Happy Christmas, Kain."


	11. Pamphlets

_A/N: Just prior to the ending of Worlds Collide, Ed is looking through the information Nicholas received once he became a state alchemist  
_

**Pamphlets  
**

Ed looked over the information Nicholas had received upon taking the state alchemists exam. He hated more than anything that his own child was going to be in the military, and yet he wasn't entirely surprised. The young man was, after all, a brilliant alchemist and one who liked to do things on a large scale. Looking over the papers at the man currently fixing supper or even taking a moment to consider himself, Ed couldn't deny that his son got it honest. 

There was a large book of military rules and policy, which Ed was sure the blond young man would disregard as easily as Ed himself had. There was also a little brochure on maintaining the watch. Then he uncovered one on sexual conduct within the military. 

"I never got this one," Ed said aloud. 

"This one what?" Roy asked, looking over his shoulder. 

"Brochure." He waved the pink piece of folded paper at his husband. "And why is it pink?" 

Roy shrugged. "That color choice was left up to the communications and health departments." He turned back to resume cooking his stir fry. "I don't know if we presented those to members of the military when you joined." 

Ed opened up the pink paper and glanced over it. He saw warnings of sexually transmitted diseases and flinched at them. "You know, I never asked you if you were clean," he said. "I should have known to do that." 

"Well, you didn't receive the sex talk, and you trusted me." 

"The sex talk? Like from my parents?" the younger man looked at his husband. 

"Thirty-eight and you're still dense about some things." Roy chuckled. "No, Ed. I mean the one you get in the military." 

"The one I'm supposed to get from my superior officer, who also happened to be the one doing me?" 

"All these years and your vocabulary is still so lacking?" Roy asked. 

"All these years and you still talk to me like I'm twelve?" Ed asked, taking on a similar, condescending tone to his husband. 

Roy shook his head and continued cooking. "You didn't get the talk because no one felt it was necessary. You joined at the age of twelve and went nowhere without Al. Then, when it was about time to sit you down and give it to you—" Roy broke off to quickly get the cooking food off the stove. 

"You were giving _it_ to me," Ed said, sitting down and propping his feet up on another chair. 

"The rebellion broke out in Central," Roy said, tersely. "Are you trying to make me out to be a pedophile?" 

Ed yawned. "No, though you're acting a little bit like a drama queen." He started to read over the pamphlet. "You've never had any of these diseases, have you?" 

"No," Roy said. "I haven't." 

"Warts?" Ed asked, incredulously. "That's just… wrong." 

"Ed, are you really telling me you've never heard of STDs?" 

"I've heard of them," the younger man said defensively. "But I didn't know what all they entailed. These descriptions are just disgusting." 

"Well, STDs generally are," Roy said, matter-of-factly as he continued to cook. 

"You know what I mean, Bastard." Ed glared up at him, but only received a smirk in return. 

Ed continued to skim the document. "What the hell? 'Remember that when you sleep with your partner, you are sleeping with everyone he or she has been with.'" Ed dropped the paper on the table. "That's just…" His face twisted in disgust. "I think I'm going to be sick." 

"I beg your pardon?" Roy said, turning around, looking somewhat offended. 

"Archer. Frank 'I'm a son of a bitch' Archer." Ed looked down at the paper, seriously wishing he had a pair of the pyrotex gloves on at the moment to incinerate the thing. 

"Ed, that was back in the Academy. You were only four at the time." 

"You aren't helping your case." He glared again at the pink paper. "I want you to order a rewrite of it. Take that line out." 

"Ed, it is an effective line," Roy said. Then, his tone turned mocking. "And the damage it's done to your fragile little psyche cannot be reversed." He brought two plates over and set them on the table in front of his husband. 

"You know, you're right," Ed said, starting to eat the meal. "Which is why I don't think my 'fragile little psyche' can handle the idea of having sex with you for a while." 

Roy dropped his fork, black eyes growing wide. "Now wait a minute, you're being unreasonable." 

Ed pointed to the pink pamphlet. "No means no," he said, finger directing Roy's eyes to the same line on the document. 

Unsurprisingly, a newly edited version of the document was printed in a matter of days. 


	12. Christening the Apartment

**Christening the Apartment**

Victor folded his arms and watched as Nicholas threw the door open to their apartment ceremoniously.

"Our first place together." Nicholas looked over at him, black eyes scanning Victor's face. "What?"

"From the moment I got transferred to Eastern Headquarters, we practically lived together."

"Yeah, but it wasn't ours. We just crashed in one another's rooms." Nicholas said, making his way behind Victor, a genuine sign he was up to something.

"Every single… oomph!... time." Victor looked at his back, where Nicholas was currently clinging, his legs wrapping their way around Victor's waist. "Do you really have to do that?"

"Mm-hmm." Nicholas nuzzled his way into the crook of Victor's neck.

"How old are you?"

"Old enough that if we go in and see the bed's up and ready we can have some fun before my family visits." Victor stood for a minute, waiting for Nicholas to let go. That obviously wasn't happening, as the blond's feet had yet to hit the floor.

"Did you expect me to carry you in bridal style?" Victor asked.

"This will do just fine." Nicholas nipped at Victor's neck. "Go on," he said as he put his arms around Victor's shoulders. "Unless you want someone to see us playing piggyback. And…" Nicholas lowered his voice to a level that just wasn't right, one that shouldn't have done the things to Victor that it did. "that's if you don't want to play an entirely different kind that requires us going inside."

"You're a horny son of a bitch, aren't you?" Victor asked.

"You're just figuring that out?" Victor could feel Nicholas was growing hard at his back, and the engineer realized he needed to get his boyfriend to the bedroom fast or he was going to have problems carrying him that would have absolutely nothing to do with the muscles in his back and shoulders.

Victor continued to move through the apartment, through the small kitchen, into the living room, and to the bedroom, only to find their mattress shoved up against the wall and the bed in pieces. "Damn," Nicholas said. "Guess expecting the moving company to have assembled it was too much to hope for."

"Looks like," Victor said trying to set Nicholas to the floor. The blond moved to the mattress and flopped it over onto an open space on the floor. "Anxious for this?"

"The dorms in Eastern Headquarters didn't exactly give us much in the way of privacy," Nicholas said as he walked back over to Victor, running his knuckles over the darkly stubbled cheeks, while the other hand managed to slide up under Victor's sweater.

"You are wearing far too many clothes," Nicholas said as he proceeded to try to rip them all off of Victor's body.

"You're one to talk," Victor said, returning the favor, his hands skimming underneath Nicholas's shirt.

Victor had come a long way since the first time he and Nicholas were together. Long gone was the nervousness over the fact that Nicholas was not soft or feminine. Victor had been so awkward as he'd uncovered the firm, muscular chest, and stopped as though he'd had no idea what to do with it.

Now, as he was confronted with the golden, strong body in front of him, Victor immediately began nipping at Nicholas's neck, moving down his sternum and over to his right nipple. All the while, the slightly taller man guided the blond to the mattress, each fumbling with the other's fly. It took nothing for Nicholas to manage to wriggle his own pants over his hips, taking the somewhat loose boxers with them—after getting sick with a nasty eastern bug about a month before, he'd lost a little bit of weight.

Victor had no intentions of bottoming today. If he and Nicholas were going to be moving and hauling furniture, he wasn't going to be the one with a sore ass. Been there, done that, and he wasn't the one who'd instigated this. Admittedly, he was top far more often, but the time that really counted, that first time they were together, he'd entrusted his lover to know what he was doing.

This time, though, he hungrily devoured the thin pink lips, meshing so fiercely that Victor began to doubt whether or not he would be capable of separating himself from the alchemist for air.

As he helped to guide the pants over the tanned hips, Nicholas slid down Victor's body until he was blowing warm breath over the dark-haired man's growing bulge beneath the boxers. Victor considered letting his long-time friend continue on in that path, but Nicholas had a devious streak in him about a mile wide. Victor knew better. If he let Nicholas finish him off, he'd find himself at the bottom, and he wasn't the one who'd insisted on doing this.

He kicked off his pants, moving down to the floor where Nicholas was.

"I think hands and knees, Major."

"Yes, sir, Lieutenant," Nicholas answered with a smirk. It didn't matter that in these roles, their official titles didn't quite work; they used them all the same. Victor couldn't wriggle out of his boxers fast enough as he watched the thinner man turn away from him and crawl onto the mattress.

"In my pants pocket," Nicholas said, lowering his upper body onto the mattress and completing the presentation of himself to the dark-haired man, "there's a tube of lube. It's for the automail, but it'll be safe."

Victor grabbed for the blue denim pants and found the tube, eagerly screwing off the cap, watching as the golden-colored behind wiggled when Nicholas shifted in position. Victor began kissing the blond's back, left hand rubbing down the left arm in front of him, paying particular attention to the metal forearm and fingers.

All the while, his right hand opened the lube and squeezed what it could on the first two fingers. He moved down to the base of the lean man's back, still unable to bring himself to use his tongue in the way Nicholas had that had left Victor a twitching mass of nerves and sex drive. Victor was just grateful he'd gotten to the point he could at least prepare Nicholas himself; with his long-time friend, it was a wonderful, sexual act. With any other man, it would have been disgusting.

Victor allowed his fingers to massage around Nicholas's twitching opening as his mouth and tongue couldn't seem to get enough of the rest of the man. He loved the way his boyfriend tasted, the way he felt. His left hand moved to encircle Nicholas's member, his right index finger finally breaching the muscles and moving its way inside. The blond was tight, far tighter than any woman he'd ever been with, but thankfully not so tight that it took the extensive stretching it did when Victor was in his lover's position.

And for as much as Nicholas had always wanted to have inherited his elder father's smooth voice, Victor felt the rich, gravelly sounds of the blond's moans should have been an aphrodisiac of their own.

He worked a second finger in, and Nicholas practically mewled.

"Damn it, Nicholas," Victor said, voice nearly as husky as his lover's. "You keep making noises like that I'm not going to make a mess back here."

"Then get on with it." Nicholas leaned back, impaling himself on Victor's fingers. "Oh, shit!"

Victor pulled out his fingers and moved himself into position, tugging Nicholas's hips until his behind was flush with the other man's backside. He moved a hand between them to position himself before slowly moving himself inside.

"Oh, damn," Victor hissed as the head of his penis was now inside that tight ring. "You okay?" The only response was a grunt that turned into a moan as Victor began tugging and sliding over the blond's phallus, moving back to the taut sac behind.

Slowly, he moved inside, kissing golden shoulders and the soft hairs at the back of Nicholas's neck.

"Victor, move. Now."

The dark-haired man pulled back, then charged forward again. He repeated the pattern until Nicholas was meeting him thrust for thrust, rocking back for each and every time Victor pushed in.

They had reduced themselves to a mass of grunts and moans, all intelligible speech gone. The occasional "Victor' or "Nicholas" or "More" came out, but very little else.

Victor could feel his fingers digging into the blond man's hips, enough that he was sure they would leave bruises on the other man's wonderful body. His other hand was still continuing to try to bring pleasure to the man below him, and he could feel him tightening, nearing that blissful point that Victor was already so close to reaching.

"Nicholas, I…" Victor pumped a few more times before crying out and spilling himself inside of the other man. His hand milked out the member below him until the ring of muscles clamped down on his over-sensitized penis.

"Oh, damn, shit, Victor, shit!" Victor slowly pulled out of Nicholas, both of them flopping down on the messy mattress.

"Do you realize how much you cuss during sex?" Victor asked.

"No more than I do anywhere else. I have a terrible mouth on me."

"I wouldn't say that. It's been pretty good to me on occasion."

"And you say I'm the kinky bastard," Nicholas said, wrapping his arms and legs around Victor.

"You are. How did you manage that?"

"Have you met my parents?" Nicholas said. "Try walking in on that. Or worse yet, stay with my sister when she was pregnant with Oliver and you can hear her and Fletcher in the next room trying to 'trigger labor.'" Victor tucked his head beneath Nicholas's chin. "It's a miracle that I'm not a sexual deviant."

"You are a sexual deviant, but I love you."

"I love you too."


	13. Touch

**Touch**

_Roy/Ed_

Ed had always thought that Winry Rockbell would be the only person capable of drawing Ed's automail with eyes closed. Even Ed wasn't certain he would remember every screw, every bolt. Yes, Winry had designed it, and she was obsessed with automail, so it was natural for her to know it better than anyone else.

But there was one other who knew Ed's automail as well as she did and in ways that she didn't—never would if Ed had anything to say about it, Al too.

Each and every night, Roy traced over Ed's automail, fingers running over the ridges and joints, both in broad daylight and in the dark.

Sometimes, Ed could see the motions even when the older man slept, his pale fingers slipping over smooth steel, fingertips moving into each curve and dip. The palms that were clear of any thick calluses easily glided over the steel and joints for all of its moving parts.

It was almost like watching a child rub over their favorite blanket or stuffed animal at these early morning moments. The faintest light would show that his face looked genuinely comforted in the movements he made. Each sensation seemed to renew the faint smile on his face, and even evoke the occasional sigh.

Sometimes, Roy would purposely position himself to be seated or standing on Ed's right, particularly when they were going to be in a large gathering. Though, Ed had to admit that the gesture normally made him feel better than worse. It meant that Roy was near the arm that always seemed to be the cause of discomfort for both Ed and their guests. But the entire time they ate or chatted, Roy's hand was on his, his quick fingers moving at all times.

The younger man had asked his now silver-haired husband back when the man's hair was the color of jet whether he had always done it as much, or if this was something new. Roy swore he'd always done it this much, even when Ed couldn't feel it, even when it was too dark for him to see.

Ed had naturally been confused. "Why?" he had asked.

"Because I could feel it," Roy had answered. And for one of the few times in his life, Edward Elric was silenced.

Now that they both were sporting varying shades of gray, Ed looked over at Roy, who was once again tracing over his arm. "You're doing it again," Ed said.

"Do you want me to stop?" his husband asked.

Ed shook his head and kissed Roy on his left cheek, over the scars he no longer even saw.


	14. Words

**Words**

Ed sat in the living room waiting on Nikki; she'd told him she had something to tell him. When the door opened at the front, he saw the eighteen-year-old smiling at him nervously.

"Hi, Granddad," she said, giving him a hug.

"Hey, Rosebud." He kissed her cheek. "So, am I going to be interviewed by ace reporter Phillis Mustang?"

She blushed a little at that, since she'd been on the university's paper only a few months, using her first name on any article she wrote for it.

_"Here Granddad. It's my newspaper!" The six-year old said, handing him a slightly crumpled piece of paper. "Grandpa! I have one for you too." _

_Ed looked to Roy, reading the paper Nikki had so proudly given him. "Look at this: 'Why my Granddad is so great.'" "Look at the back, Ed," Roy said to him. "'Why my Grandpa is really cool.'" "I got the front page," Ed teased._

"Well, Granddad," Nikki said, looking down at her feet, "I, well, I don't think I can."

Ed grabbed her hand, smaller and thinner than his own—she was the only member of the family who had not surpassed him in size—and pulled her onto the sofa beside him. "Nikki, what's wrong? Is it because we're related?"

"No," she said, eyes the same color as her grandfather's looking into his, "I knew the paper wanted that, a story about your research being published written by your granddaughter. They expected it to be biased in your favor. Even though I don't like it, that isn't the problem." She took a deep breath and sighed. "You leave so many things out in your research. As your granddaughter and someone who's privy to why you've kept the secrets of the homunculi and Dante to yourself, I understand. As a journalist, my first instinct is to publish them and tell the world. I can't do a story where I know you're lying; I just can't. Of course, I didn't tell my editors that. I said that I couldn't write a story based on my family when it should be a hard news piece."

Understanding completely, Ed smiled warmly and hugged her.

_"And that concludes the news," the nine-year-old said from within her cardboard box television set. _

_Seated beside Rose, the two proud grandparents clapped their hands together. _

_"You don't clap for newscasters," Nikki said. _

_"You aren't a real newscaster," her brother Oliver pointed out. At five, the little blond found his sister's overactive imagination too silly for him. He was too engrossed in a book—one with very few pictures—to be playing along with games of make-believe. _

_"But I'm practicing to be one, Oliver," she said. He only rolled his hazel eyes in response and turned the page of his book on rockets. _

_"I think you will make a very good reporter," Rose said, opening her arms for the petite young girl. _

_"Thank you, Mum-mum," Nikki said, hugging her._

"I'm going to be working on a story about the memorial service for the people lost when the Gate opened."

"Your Grandpa is speaking at that and they are honoring your father," Ed said, kissing her curly head. "Won't that ruin your cover story for not doing the interview with me?"

She shook her head. "The memorial service story they really wanted to have a more emotional tone to it, so it works out better this way." He released Nikki from the hug and she sat beside him, head resting on his shoulder. "I was glad to see they're getting Grandpa to talk at it. They don't do that often enough since he retired."

"Well, when they said they were going to be honoring several soldiers including your father, Roy insisted." He rested his head on his granddaughter's. "We've never really forgiven ourselves for some of the things we said to him."

_"What the hell is this!" Nikki yelled out while walking by the newsstands. "'Phillis Nichole Mustang a child of rape! Friend of deceased father tells all!'"_

_Nikki was fifteen by now and while Ed knew she was aware she was unexpected, but to see this trash published in a paper, trash he had once accused Phillip of, was enough to make him want to grab Roy's gloves off of him and incinerate the stand that instant. _

_"What kind of shit do they pass for news?" Nikki said, almond-shaped eyes narrowing into mere slits. She looked over at her two grandfathers, who had been taking her out that night to celebrate good marks from her classes. "I swear, I'm going to find the reporters who write this, this crap and have their jobs! If I ever, ever become a so-called journalist like them, please, shoot me." _

_Roy and Ed nodded, knowing that tonight Aideen was going to have to explain to her eldest daughter everything of that night with Phillip. She would have to explain what Phillip's friend had seen that day and that her reaction to the young man had nothing to do with rape on his part, but fear that Dante would use him against her again. Aideen would have to explain it all, and Fletcher, Roy and Ed would be there beside her as she did. None of them had hoped this day would come, but it did. Before the night was out, Nikki would learn the biggest fact they had been keeping from her: Her father, who had always cared deeply for Aideen, had made love to her mother that night, but her mother had not been willing. _

_It was a secret they could have done without telling the girl who was confident in the story the world knew, that two frightened teenagers had come together that night and created her. And now, they had to shatter the image of two young lovers for one of a villainess manipulating the affection Phillip had always held for his former girlfriend in order to create Nikki and break Aideen._

"So, have you finally decided on a major?" Ed asked, knowing fully well what her decision would be once she finally made it.

Nikki looked at him, smiling. "I have. I'm going to major in journalism, I'm going to proudly use the name I got from my father on every article I write, and I'm going to work to bring back what reporting really should be."

"Well, sounds like you made up your mind on more than just a major," the older man said, squeezing her shoulders.

"You don't think people will be disappointed I'm not doing something with my alchemy?" she asked, playing with the solid white curl at the top of her head, a habit she'd had since childhood.

"Alchemy isn't the only way to make a difference in the world, Nikki," Ed said. "Words can be just as powerful sometimes."

She smiled at him before kissing him on his cheek. "Thank you, Granddad."


	15. Black Shirt

Black Shirt

**Black Shirt**

It was late when Roy got home, which wasn't very much of a change except it wasn't an ungodly hour. Really, it was becoming a very obnoxious pattern he was more than willing to break. The lights were all off downstairs, save for a single one glowing in the library, and it appeared that someone upstairs was awake, as there was a faint glow at the top of the stairs.

Walking down the hall, Roy found Al at the desk, pouring over a book. Though Al was much more patient about it than his brother, neither Elric liked to be disturbed when working on anything. Al glanced up for a moment, Roy merely waving at the teen before he made his way upstairs.

Passing by Al's bedroom, formerly Ed's, formerly the guestroom, to the nursery door, Roy quietly turned the knob and pushed the door open. Both of the twins were sound asleep, but as he hadn't gotten to see his children all day, Roy couldn't help but make his way inside to look at their tiny, sleeping forms. He gently pulled the thin blanket over his son's small frame, then moved toward his daughter's crib, repeating the move and marveling at the amount of hair she still had in comparison to her elder twin.

Leaving the room as silently as he'd entered, Roy walked the rest of the distance down the hall to the bedroom he shared with his husband. It was hard for him to believe that a few months ago, he'd gone to bed every night alone. The door was open just enough to allow Ed to hear the twins if they woke up.

Pressing fingertips to the dark wood, Roy opened the door just enough to step through into his room, only to find Ed standing in front of the closet, pushing up the sleeves of Roy's black dress shirt. It was strange to see the shirt on the small alchemist, the faintest reminder in the back of Roy's mind that he'd yelled at women he'd dated for pulling it out to do exactly the same thing. Strangely enough, looking at the blond, his hair loose, his eyes a little tired from a day with the twins, Roy found the sight endearing, if not just a little attractive.

On Roy, that particular shirt covered only the necessary parts if he wore it without anything else, but on Ed, it hung almost to his mismatched knees, looking incredibly young in the oversized clothing.

"Hello," Roy finally said after a few minutes of watching the young man. The sound of someone else in the room apparently startled Ed, as he jumped, eyes wide as he looked at the source of the sudden voice.

"You're late again," Ed said, the faintest frown on his face.

"I know," Roy replied as he walked the distance between himself and the smaller alchemist. "I'm sorry." Taking his hand to gently tilt Ed's chin upwards, Roy leaned down and kissed the thin, chapped lips.

Methodically, Roy began removing his coat and pants, watching Ed move to the bed out of the corner of his eye.

"So, any new assassination attempts? Death threats?"

"Not at the moment," Roy answered, unfastening the buckle of his belt.

"You know that I'd kill anyone who hurt you or the twins."

"Of course I do, because I'd do the same."

"But, honestly, all of that, the military, everything, seems so far away for me right now." Ed pulled back the covers to climb in.

"Spending all day here with the twins will probably do that."

"Mm-hmm." Ed stretched, pulling the shirt upwards a few lovely inches, then he looked up at Roy, eyes questioning. "What?"

"You look nice, even if you're about to use my best silk shirt to sleep in."

"Hey, I still don't fit into much of my own, and the twins messed up my nightshirt." Roy smiled at Ed's claim to the oversized nightshirt. "So I grabbed a shirt you don't wear that often. Would you rather I just slept naked?"

"Actually…"

Ed's face turned a very deep red. "Damn it, how long am I going to do that?"

Now dressed only in his white shirt and boxers, Roy approached his young husband. "I think it's adorable."

"Adorable?" Ed's flush changed from embarrassment to anger. "What do you mean adorable? Really, should a seventeen-year-old be adorable? And when I'm thirty, will it be adorable!"

Even as Ed began ranting at Roy's poor choice of words, Roy could only smile, carding a hand through the long blond hair.

"You see, you've lost all respect for me! All fear of me!"

"Not at all. When I'm not technically your commanding officer, I can appreciate your rants more than when I was your colonel."

"Still my colonel," Ed said, wrapping his automail arm behind Roy's neck. "That won't change even now that you're my fuhrer."

Roy wrapped an arm around the small waist. "Possessive thing aren't you?"

"Damned right." Ed pulled Roy down for a kiss, this one much more substantial than the little peck the older man had greeted him with.

"You know you look very good in my shirt."

"I must, because there was no yelling about me wearing your stuff, or possibly ruining it." Ed smiled cheekily before sitting down on the bed. "I know since the twins have been born, we haven't been able to… you know. I was wondering, if maybe…"

Roy was pleased with this offer. All regions south were jumping for joy. Between having to care for the twins and rebuild the country, sex just hadn't happened. Even when there had been the opportunity, Ed had felt uncomfortable with his appearance.

"There is one condition," Ed said.

"What?" Roy asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"You have to shut the door," Ed barely got the word door out of his mouth before Roy had it closed. "and I get to leave the shirt on."

Roy started to argue, but abruptly halted, seeing the young man on the bed, offering himself willingly, black shirt pooling around his smaller body, blond hair splayed on the pillow. With that image to entice him, Roy would have offered anything in exchange. He also reminded himself that since the birth of the twins, Ed hadn't been entirely comfortable being naked. Knowing this was the only way it would happen and so enticed by the image, Roy made his way back to the bed quickly, crawling between the already parted legs, hands at either side of Ed's chest.

"I'll take that as a yes," Ed said with a smile.

Roy lowered himself to his elbows, snaking his hands up to the satiny blond hair, Enjoying the feeling of Ed's hands at his shoulders, Roy nuzzled into the teen's neck. As his still-clothed groin rubbed against Ed's, still beneath the black silk, the smaller man let out a moan.

"Oh, damn, remind me to get silk boxers. That feels," Roy grinded against Ed again. "Mmm…"

"Are you telling me that you're not wearing anything under my shirt?" Roy leaned back enough to look down at his husband.

Ed grinned and shook his head. "I'd only just put it on when you came in."

Roy moved back down, capturing Ed's lips again, practically devouring them. "You are…" He kissed Ed again. "absolutely…" He moved to the smooth jaw and neck. "perfect."

"Bullshit." Ed's hands scratched down as much of Roy's back as he could manage. "You just want me to put out."

"No need to flatter your for that. You're already doing it beautifully."

Ed chuckled, doing his best to kiss and attend to Roy's ear. "Do you want me to turn, or hands and knees?"

Roy's member definitely liked the phrase hands and knees, but the brain above his waist wanted something else. He shook his head, looking down at Ed. "We've managed to do this what four times? And I always had to do it behind you. "I'd like to watch you."

Ed's only response was to latch his left hand in Roy's dark hair, and hook his automail fingers into the band of Roy's underwear.

They proceeded to grind against one another, all the while struggling to pull Roy's underwear below the straining erection. Once again, it was obvious Ed didn't mind Roy topping, and allowing himself to enjoy that fact, Roy didn't consider why. He just reveled in the sensation of their shirt-covered bodies rubbing against one another, the scent of Ed as he grew more aroused, the feeling of cold metal and flesh as arms and legs encircled him.

"Mmm," Ed said, "I love this. Love you, too."

"Love you," Roy growled into Ed's ear, rubbing against him again. The young man beneath him arched, automail leg wrapping itself around Roy's hip. "But, we're going to need lube."

"Lube?" Ed said, eyes blank in his lust. "Lube," he repeated more certainly before reaching into the bedside drawer. He handed the tube to Roy as the older man leaned back on his knees between Ed's splayed legs. "Don't take too long. The twin's won't be out for long."

Roy rolled his eyes. "You can kill a mood, you know."

"I'm just being honest." He ran his hand over Roy's leg. "I want this, Roy, and I don't want it spoiled. So, yes, it has to be fast." Ed leaned up on his elbows and looked up at Roy. "Please."

"As fuhrer, who am I to deny the request of one of my subjects?"

Ed rolled his eyes, rubbing his hips against Roy, the black shirt falling open at the younger man's erect member. "Just do it now, or I'm going to overthrow you."

Roy laughed, spreading the lube over both hands, his left taking a firm hold of the phallus nestled in the blond curls, his right slowly preparing his younger lover.

"Oh, Roy. It's been…shit. Too long!"

Roy was already onto the second finger, surprised by how tight Ed once again was from the near month without making love. He watched the small frame arch, blond head thrash back and forth, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

A throaty grown escaped Roy as he thought of being buried inside of his willing husband. A willing husband clad in black silk and seeming to revel in the way the fabric rubbed over his skin.

A third finger inside Ed, Roy knew he couldn't wait much longer, and apparently, neither could Ed.

"Now. Now!"

Willingly, Roy complied, positioning himself and slowly easing himself inside. There was pain on Ed's face, and he hesitated. Was this normal? Roy had never gotten to watch the young man's expressions, not like this. Had he not stretched him enough?

"I'm fine," Ed said. "It's been a while."

Roy nodded, nipping at Ed's neck, sucking at an earlobe until Ed lifted his legs and pulled Roy deeper inside with a hiss from Ed and a groan from Roy.

It wasn't long before they set into a steady pace, made love, Roy reveling in the teen's amazing face, the large gold eyes rolling around in his head, mouth gaping open.

Finally, they both reached their completion, Roy pulling Ed to his side, remaining partially inside.

"I think I ruined your silk shirt," Ed said, burying his face underneath of Roy's chin.

"Well worth it."


	16. Inked

_(This is Roy/Ed, some point during Worlds Collide)_

**Inked**

"You're serious?" Ed said, looking up at him. "I just stamp and go?"

Roy grinned. "Yes. How many hand cramps or people doubting that's a real signature are we going to have before you believe me?"

"But, isn't that lazy? I mean, I write enough as it is. My hand isn't cramping up just from the signatures," Ed said, twirling the iron handle in his automail hand.

"I use them for minor documents, Ed," Roy said, sitting next to the younger man at his lab table.

"Like I said. Lazy." Despite the words, Ed was grinning over at Roy. Moments like these, Roy was reminded of just how young Ed was in comparison to himself, a reminder that Ed, regardless of dogged research and ancient eyes, had his moments of looking all of his 22 years. "You don't use your symbol, do you?"

"I don't want alchemists accidentally touching it and incinerating the document, Ed. I use my signature."

Ed looked down at the base of the metal object in his hand. "So why isn't mine?"

"You never consistently sign your name, Ed."

"You make it sound like I'm not capable of doing it. Like I need to sign X on the line."

Roy grabbed either side of Ed's face. "It's a gift, Ed. Stop making such a fuss over it. It's your Flamel because it's distinctly you, and you can use it to replace your signature on documents or mark something as yours."

Ed still eyed him suspiciously.

Roy gently kissed his husband on the lips. "A gift. I even got you red ink so that no one doubts it's your symbol."

Ed rolled his eyes before kissing Roy again in thanks.

Really, Ed didn't want to show how grateful he'd been for his husband's gift, but since he'd received the thing, he'd marked his red Flamel on twelve order forms, ten request slips, and was just about to use the wonderful little gift again, when Al suddenly spoke up.

"Um, Brother… I don't think anyone's going to believe these are from you?"

"Why not? It's my symbol, or at least, our symbol."

"But, it's, well, pink."

"Pink!" Ed jumped up from his chair.

"Yeah," Al said, looking down at Ed, somewhat frightfully. "I mean, I wondered if you knew if it was pink, but I didn't think you could."

"Do you really think I'd stamp official documents with pink Flamels?"

"Well, not really, but I thought…" Al shook his head as though thinking better of himself. "I don't know what I thought."

"Pink! I bet the bastard did it on purpose! I bet he knew when he gave this to me. Thought it would be funny to see me trying to hand this through the Amestris bureaucrats." Ed was scowling down at the supposedly red inkpad, just imagining what he'd do to his husband the moment he got home.

"This most certainly dries red, sir," the store owner said.

"I'm glad. I had to do a bit of convincing to ensure that my husband believed I didn't do this on purpose."

The owner laughed, handing over the blood-red pad to the fuhrer.

"Thank you," Roy said, looking over at the man behind the counter. He was ready to turn away and thought better of it. "Sir, may I ask, how long does the ink take to wash off?" Fighting the heat rising to his face, Roy quickly covered. "With children in the house, should they find it, you understand."

"It is semi permanent, so if it is on fabric, it may not fade."

_  
"You still don't believe me, Ed? I told you that I didn't do it on purpose. Now untie me."_

"And if it's on skin?"

_  
"Oh, I believe you completely, but we wouldn't want this to go to waste, and a stamp like this can also be used to mark what's mine. And I intend to cover every inch."_

"A few days, Fuhrer, sir."

Roy nodded, tightening his collar, hoping that the marks on his neck didn't look noticeably like tiny Flamels, that perhaps he could pass them off as a fuchsia-colored rash.


	17. A Late Night

(This takes place during Worlds Collide)

**A Late Night**

It was late when Roy got home, still sorting out the beginnings of a new government, his role in it, and how to properly promote those who'd been most loyal to him without insulting those with the years and experience who also deserved the high-ranking positions. He had just a bit of a headache and was honestly surprised that he was coming home to a completely quiet home. That hadn't seemed to happen since the twins had been born, or, honestly since Ed had begun to take up residence.

There was a faint light on in the kitchen. Roy glanced in to see there was a bottle in the pot on the stove, still with formula inside. Apparently, one of the twins hadn't gotten up yet for their nighttime feeding. He grabbed the bottle, looking at the symbol Ed had put on the outside. Roy had become the instant bottlewarmer, despite the fact that Ed was more than capable of doing it himself—he wasn't a prodigy for nothing. He saw a tiny light on in the corner of the study, Ed on that damned sofa he'd hardly left when he was pregnant, actually much in the position Roy'd seen him sleep in when he'd first walked by the dozing teen over a year before, save for the addition of a second blond head and a left hand curled tightly around the sleeping body of their son. Roy walked into the room, pulling off his gloves as he did, running his hand over the light blond hair, still downy soft, finally leaning down to kiss the little head, watching as a tiny mouth opened and closed with a deep breath.

He repeated the same process with the other young face, kissing Ed's forehead, brushing a few strands of hair that had been stuck to his husband's clammy forehead. He found a tiny blanket, covering Nicholas up as he did, knowing there was nothing short of a natural disaster prying their son from Ed's grip and it was best just to let his boy stay there.

He then made his way to the stairs, hearing the faint sounds of whimpering as he reached the second floor. Aideen was awake, but not yet crying, and if he hurried, he could keep her from doing so. He laid his fingers over the transmutation circle in the glass of the bottle, warming it to the right temperature as he walked down the hall.

He entered the yellow and green nursery, taking off his coat and exchanging the bottle from hand to hand to do so. He draped his fuhrer uniform coat over the rocking chair and walked over to the crib where his daughter slept restlessly. "Shh," he whispered as he scooped the fidgety five-month-old into his arms. "Papa's here."

He lowered the rubber nipple to the little girl's pink mouth, watching in that ever-present amazement as her little hands grabbed immediately at the bottle. He sat in the rocking chair, gently moving as he listened to the sounds of her feeding. "You're going to be such a worry for me," he said, softly, seeing a pair of gold and rust eyes look up at him momentarily before resuming their attention on the bottle. "That's right. I'm talking to you. You have to be the prettiest little girl to have ever been born. I know I won't be the only one to ever notice, and I think I'm going to have to take care of a lot of would-be boyfriends."

Roy pressed his lips to her forehead, all the while taking in that scent of baby shampoo and powder that lingered on the twins. "And you know, I'll probably do anything you ask me to. Little as those fingers are, I'm wrapped securely around them, both yours and your brother's."

He rocked a bit more, tilting the bottle up just a bit to keep her from sucking up any air. The sounds of her slowly draining the bottle stopped as she took a deep breath, tiny chest rising and falling in his arm. "Don't let your daddy know, but I like feeding you. When he was the only one who could, I felt left out. I like when I get this time wit you or your brother." The drinking didn't resume, and Roy figured that was his signal that she was done. He slowly put the bottle on the floor beside the chair, raising the growing baby to his shoulder, gently rubbing and patting her back until he heard—and felt—the sound of the tiny gas bubble that escaped.

He turned his head to look at her as he lowered her back into his arms. Her little hands reached up to his face, grabbing hold of his mouth first, fingers inquisitively moving inside, pulling on a lip, grabbing hold of teeth while he pretended to bite them. It was late, too late to be playing. He knew it, but he so rarely got to do this with his children, and he wasn't passing up the chance.

Then, the wet hands moved up his cheek to the patch over his left eye, pulling at the thing to the point it was nearly painful as the tiny, sharp fingernails grazed his cheeks.

"You're as persistent as your daddy." He knew she wasn't about to stop, so he slowly pulled off the patch, feeling the hands wet from his own mouth moving over the scarred flesh, not afraid, just constantly exploring as the baby always did. It took some time, but eventually she tired of looking at his face, and soon he was rocking her to sleep against his chest, talking to her in a low, rumbling tone, knowing that singing certainly wouldn't do it. Beneath his hands, he could feel her breathing slowing, and he carefully stood from the chair, trying not to disturb her, or worse, fall down as it rocked beneath him. It was designed more for Ed, and always seemed awkward for Roy to get back out of once he'd gotten into it.

He went back over to the crib, being as delicate as possible to place her on the soft yellow comforter, unable to eliminate the contented smile on his face. He was fuhrer, but never did he think that this would be the feeling that made him feel like everything he'd ever gone through was worth it.

It wasn't until he felt a hand on his arm he realized he wasn't alone in the room. He glanced over at Ed who was now standing at Nicholas's crib, tucking the little boy in. As they did when they found themselves in here like this, he and Ed swapped their places, each taking that moment to look admire and shower just a bit of affection on the other twin as they slept. Roy lightly traced his boy's features, so like his mother's, letting a tiny hand unconsciously wrap around his finger for a moment before pulling away to let the babies sleep and hopefully get a few hours himself.

He immediately grabbed the patch and replaced it, hating the idea of going into the weak light of the hallway as he was for Ed, possibly even Al in the next room, to see. Then, he took his coat, throwing it over his left arm and took it out into the hall, finding his other hand was not entirely empty, as a smaller, more calloused one quickly filled it. No words were said, even as Roy undressed and the two men quickly became nothing more than a single lump beneath their blankets, legs, arms, whole bodies wrapped together as sleep captured them as well.


End file.
